


A Way to Interpret the World

by Mira



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-08-18
Updated: 2008-08-18
Packaged: 2017-10-15 14:27:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,012
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/161723
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mira/pseuds/Mira
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rodney realized that he was happy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Way to Interpret the World

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the [McSmooch](http://community.livejournal.com/mcsmooch/) Livejournal Community

Rodney realized that he was happy.

He was alone in the main lab, dim light rising around him. He'd spent most of the night there; it was so late it was early again. Surveying his workstation, he noticed his two mugs, one an official SGC mug -- that always made him laugh; who the hell put the logo of a top-secret facility on mugs? Who _designed_ logos for top-secret facilities? -- and the other one made years ago by Jeannie and Madison, decorated by Madison with her own tiny handprint in pink paint. The paint had flaked, he saw, smiling at it.

He also noticed he was out of coffee.

One of the ever-present plastic water bottles, half full, sat too close to his laptop, so he pushed it away. Sheppard hated those plastic bottles, and Teyla and Ronon reacted to them with polite disdain, preferring their own reusable versions. Rodney in theory agreed with John, but it was just so easy to grab a bottle or two. Though he'd never admit it to anyone, he was glad that Seligman, the new biochemist, was working on a side-project, a recycling plan to turn the plastic bottles into material for tactical vests.

Two crumpled power bar wrappers sat in crumbs -- the bars had also started to bother Rodney, for which he also blamed John. He had to admit it was wasteful and, after so many years in the Pegasus galaxy eating so many different foods on so many different planets, the sawdust texture and cardboard flavour of Earth-made power bars no longer held the same appeal for him.

Fortunately, he also had the Ricovian version of power bars -- a moist round of grain and dried fruit. Same idea as the power bar, but he preferred the taste and Ricovians cleverly folded them into large leaves that, when gently pressed with a thumbnail, sealed themselves, and which could be re-used many times. He licked his forefinger and pressed into a crumb, then licked it off. Good stuff.

Kept more neatly was Rodney's work: a few sheets of scarce paper (though they now traded for it from the Greshins rather than importing it from Earth) but most on his various laptops. He had the bomb-proof one that he velcroed to his back during missions, the big one he tended to leave in the lab, and another one he took to meetings. Every one was backed up nightly, of course, and the server backed up, and data sent to the Beta Site as well.

A dented brass horn -- a _heriberga_ \-- stood nearby, at an angle that reflected his main computer's monitor. He had been given the _heriberga_ by the _gyve_ of P2X-735 after Rodney had warned them of an imminent typhoon that had flooded their coastal villages. Rodney's forecast, his utter confidence in his abilities, persuaded the _gyve_ to evacuate the villages in time. Rodney and his team had sat out the storm as guests of the _gyve_ and her household, a time he remembered with satisfaction. When the noise level in the labs reached eleven, Rodney liked to blow the _heriberga_ ; it made a screechy farting noise that instantly brought all attention back to him.

Set safely away from the laptops stood a lumpy candle made of ambergris given to him by a lovely woman on P3T-401; Alice or Alisha or maybe Ayesha. He couldn't remember. But he remembered her smile and he certainly remembered her breasts and how she'd brushed against him before his team had dragged him away. "Now, Rodney," John had said when he'd complained, but Ronon had laughed and hugged him tightly, lifting him off the ground. Lisha had given him the candle before they'd left, supposedly as part of the trade they'd arranged. Rodney had tried not to accept, but she insisted and so, with his team watching him, Teyla's eyes slitted, he thanked Sheyla, tried one final time to escape, but she'd pressed the candle (and herself) against him, sighing as he was tugged away.

Later, Teyla had explained in no uncertain terms why even considering spending intimate time with Lashahsa would have been a very bad idea. Rodney smiled at that memory, too.

The ambergris smelled good, Rodney thought, becoming aware of the scent again as he stared at the candle. Fresh, a bit sweet, but a hint of something unpleasant, too, even dangerous. He sniffed appreciatively, even as he worried what it might be outgassing. Maybe fecal matter.

He tapped his fingernail against the little _moka_ that the engineers, including the combat engineers, had created for him for a long ago birthday. Radek had come up with the idea, designing the tiny naquadah engine that powered it, but the plastics guy had fashioned an ergonomically correct handle, the military had insisted on doing the soldering, and Lorne had completed it with a tiny impressionistic image of Atlantis rising. That was the side of the _moka_ that Rodney kept facing him.

Not that he drank real coffee anymore, but finely ground _kwah_ seeds from P3Y-912, roasted in a converted hot-air popcorn popper, tasted awfully good on a damp Atlantean morning. Or anytime, actually, Rodney thought, and realized he wasn't utterly and completely happy.

But a cup of _kwah_ coffee made in the little _moka_ and drunk from Madison's pink handprinted mug while working on his current project -- now that would make him utterly and completely happy.

Something bumped into him and a pointed chin dug into his shoulder. He smiled and said, "Ow."

John slid his arms around Rodney's (too rapidly expanding) middle and said, "Come to bed."

"Hmm. _Kwah_ or bed." Rodney said as he turned into John's arms.

" _Kwah_ , or bed and me," John corrected him, but there really wasn't a decision to be made. There never had been, Rodney decided as he permitted himself to be led away from the lab.

"Bed and you," Rodney said. "Or maybe you and bed?"

John smiled and ducked his head. "I think that can be arranged."

Rodney stopped him in the corridor and kissed him. _Now_ he was completely happy.

* * *

  
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](http://i33.photobucket.com/albums/d57/mirabile_dictu/Atlantis/UnmadeBed.jpg)   


  


**Author's Note:**

> Title from [Happiness](http://www.amazon.com/Happiness-Guide-Developing-Lifes-Important/dp/0316057835), by Matthieu Ricard


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